


Shared Struggle

by chumimiista



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Dadgil, Estrangement, Father-Son Relationship, Father/Son Incest, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:28:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23835400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chumimiista/pseuds/chumimiista
Summary: Nero's SOL, 'cause ever since the twins got back from hell he's had trouble sleeping. In a moment of childish naivete, he recalls the way Credo comforted him as a child when he couldn't sleep or when he was afraid. Could he have that with Vergil, too?Only one way to find out!Can be read as platonic OR shippy, tagged for both, but is not explicit ♥
Relationships: Nero/Vergil (Devil May Cry), NeroVer, VerNero
Comments: 11
Kudos: 149





	Shared Struggle

**Author's Note:**

> so i had to take short break from continuing nerov fucky times to write this bc of [this beautiful fanart](https://twitter.com/chuyalovelove/status/1184043833538924544?s=20) ( **WARNING the second img _is_ NSFW NeroVer!!!**), and also cuz my headspace has been in the dumps lately. roommate moving out stress, being cooped up cuz of covid, the works.
> 
> i hope y'all enjoy this!! i'll get back to writing and requests soonish... sorry that i am not the most productive right now ^^; ♥

His eyes had long since adjusted to the darkness. He could see the specs of some peeled-off paint on the ceiling and the shine of a spiderweb in the corner, highlighted by the moonlit sky just beyond the window. Nero sighed. He was kind of cold, and maybe a bit lonely. Ever since Dante and Vergil had returned, he’d had trouble sleeping – Vergil was just one room away, maybe he could…

Nero covered his face. The warmth of his palms spread through his cheeks and down his neck until his entire torso felt feverish. The whole thing was stupid; he was an adult for fuck’s sake, he shouldn’t be thinking about going to his estranged father in the next room over for comfort. Vergil was _far_ from caring or affectionate, as it were. Nero knew he wouldn’t get any sleep like this, though, and before his brain could process it, he had thrown the sheets off his body and quietly tip-toed out into the hallway.

Vergil’s door was cracked open. He slipped inside and let it click softly behind him. Vergil’s window had a dark curtain over it; Nero waited a moment for his vision to readjust and soon spotted a tired, curled-up lump of long limbs on the bed. Vergil’s ribs expanded as he inhaled deeply, though Nero was quite surprised that he was still fast asleep. Vergil’s senses were as sharp as they come.

The lump in his throat made him hesitate. Would Vergil wake up before he could even make it to the bed? Would he stab Nero – actually, that was the most probable thing that could happen. Nero kept his hand on the doorknob, each second that passed making him reconsider; and then he heard Vergil sigh quietly and turn onto his back. “Come,” he said.

“I knew you heard me,” Nero grumbled. “Guess I’m not much of a threat, though.”

Vergil did not respond. He kept his hands neatly folded over the blankets on his stomach, and his eyes remained closed despite the dip of the bed as Nero climbed in beside him. He left some space between them. Although Nero thought it would help being next to someone, like when Credo used to let him stay in his room whenever he was scared, now that he was there, his mind spun with thousands of worries that refused to let his eyes rest.

Even so, his father’s face was much more interesting than sleep. Nero studied the way Vergil’s cheeks sunk in beneath those razor-sharp bones, but only slightly; he made note of the dark grooves under his eyes, a physical sign of his non-restful life. He counted the creases in Vergil’s forehead, his undone hair conveniently pushed off to the side, and he felt along his own brow bone as he compared their shapes. Very similar, he thought. And Vergil’s lips: they were extra plump, as if that part of him had come straight from his human half, V.

“Nero.”

Nero closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. But he held his breath and lay much too rigid, and that gave him away the same way it did when Credo caught him staying up too late or letting his mind wander too far. Vergil shifted, but Nero was too nerve-wracked to even peek.

Then he felt an arm slip between his neck and the pillow, wrapping around where a hand pressed on his shoulder blade. His eyes snapped open and suddenly Vergil’s bare chest was _right there_ and he was—they were—cuddling?

Vergil’s skin was cool, like a balm against his overheated face. Tension fled from Nero’s shoulders as he took a deep breath, his soul shuddering at the telling scent of old leather and Vergil’s natural, Sparda-inherited musk (Dante smelled like it, too). He took another breath and sighed. All the fight in him left as he wrapped his arms around his father’s waist and pulled him closer, their bodies connecting almost perfectly in a mutually desired embrace. Vergil’s breathing slowed again, little puffs of air tickling Nero’s scalp while he drifted off once more.

He fell asleep in his father’s arms with a smile and a last, fading thought: that he was finally protected and loved, himself.

The struggle they shared was what brought them together.


End file.
